


Take another little piece of my heart

by aewriting



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Brief mention of deployment, Don't Ask Don't Tell, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Police, the lost decade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:06:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24434032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aewriting/pseuds/aewriting
Summary: Michael is hoping to grasp onto anything Alex will give him while he’s home on leave.A lost decade fic.
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 25
Kudos: 145





	Take another little piece of my heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tasyfa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tasyfa/gifts).



> This was inspired by a prompt from Tasyfa: “That was a close call.”
> 
> Thank you!

“Can’t believe we’re doing this,” Alex mutters, hand jammed haphazardly down the front of Michael’s pants.

“Oh, we’re fuckin’ doin’ this, Manes,” Michael grits out, trying his best to watch the road, “and then, you’re doing _me_.”

Alex groans, but his hand doesn’t still. “Christ, that’s terrible,” he pants. “ _You’re_ terrible.”

“The fuckin’ worst,” Michael agrees, veering the truck off the road and slamming it in park.

That _does_ still Alex’s hand. “The fuck?” Michael looks at him, drinks him the fuck in - it’s a full moon, and it casts him in a pale light, with his messy hair, swollen lips, dark eyes. One hand still trapped down Michael’s waistband.

“Can’t wait,” Michael explains, leaning in closer. “Need your dick, Private.”

“Michael...”

“Go on,” Michael murmurs, putting one hand over his own fly as his other hand reaches up to the side of Alex’s face, pulling him in for an open-mouthed kiss. Alex groans into it, can surely feel the way Michael’s other hand is intensifying Alex’s hold on Michael’s own erection. “Yeah, you feel that. That’s how bad I want you right now.”

Alex pulls back only enough to cast a quick glance out the open window. “We’re not even ten feet off the main road.” He kisses Michael’s jaw. “There’s no cover.” He kisses his neck.

“It’s almost 2am,” Michael says, struggling to keep his train of thought. “No one’s gonna come out this way. I’ll be quick. Then I’ll take you to my place.”

Alex goes wide eyed. “Your place? You have a place?”

“Yeah,” he says. Bites his lip. “Um, not like an apartment or anything.” He leans back a little. “It’s a trailer. I have a trailer.”

He looks at Alex, and is so very relieved to see him smiling. “No roommates, right?”

“Hell no.”

“Works for me,” Alex says, smile growing. “After we take care of this,” he says pointedly, looking down at himself, then at Michael with an arched brow.

“Yeah?” Michael says, grinning.

“Yeah,” Alex nods, and Michael can’t do anything but kiss him. It escalates quickly, Michael pulling at Alex’s shirt, Alex biting at Michael’s ear.

And Michael is so hard that it’s painful. Like, it actually hurts, the too-tight feeling of his jeans with Alex’s hand still wrapped around him. “Gotta let me go so I can get at it,” he says.

“No,” protests Alex, punctuating it with a slight squeeze that sends Michael gasping. “Don’t want to let you go.”

“Fuck, Alex,” Michael mutters, looking skyward. “Want your dick sucked or not?”

“I...” he breathes, eases his hand out of Michael’s pants. “I do.” Then without warning, he cups him again through his jeans. “But later, at your place,” he increases the pressure, “I want this. Want you.”

“You have me,” Michael says, so easily. And he means it.

Alex must hear it, too, because he gives a self-satisfied little nod and pulls away from Michael. Lays himself down on the bench seat, head near the window, one foot on the floor, and unzips his fly. “Take off your shirt,” he commands, voice low.

Michael knows how to put on a show, and Alex has always been his target audience. His worn t-shirt is gone in one smooth, practiced motion. He hears the groan Alex tries to stifle.

Then he’s on him, maneuvering his body in the tight quarters so he’s lying on top of him, between his legs, pressing his body, the mass of him down into the seat. His mouth is on Alex’s lips, his collarbone. “Thought of this about a million times,” he murmurs.

“Liar.”

Michael makes an affronted little sound but doesn’t stop moving down Alex’s body. “You calling my math skills into question?” He clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “Should know better than that.”

“It’s been seven months,” Alex murmurs. “179 of those days were in country. I thought about this too, Michael, but a million times is pretty steep.” He smiles, lopsided. “It was probably in the thousands.”

Michael exhales, pleased. Maybe a little cocky. “Thousands, eh?”

“Shut up.”

He smiles. “Make me,” he says suggestively. “I mean it, Alex, make me,” he repeats, an edge of need in his voice.“Want your dick so bad.”

“Fuck, Michael,” Alex says, squeezing his eyes shut. “Yeah. Do it.” He opens his eyes, looks at him. “Please?”

That “please” does it. From that point on, Michael’s mission-focused - rucking down Alex’s jeans, his underwear, pressing kisses to the too-warm skin at his center. Fueled by the wrecked noises Alex is making, Michael licks up the length of him.

“Fuck,” Alex groans, low in his throat. 

“Yeah,” Michael says, wrapping his hand around Alex, jerking him a bit. “I want that, later. At my place. Want you to fuck me.”

“Oh my god.”

“Been seven months, Manes,” Michael says, increasing the pace. “Seven months without your dick inside me,” he says, taking Alex deep into his mouth for emphasis, just holding him there until he needs the air. Messy and gasping, Michael pulls off with an obscenely wet pop, presses his lips to Alex’s groin, his hip. “Wish I could have you everywhere. All at once.”

“Michael,” Alex bites out, clutching at his curls. 

Michael presses one more kiss to Alex’s tip and then really zeroes in - uses his lips, his tongue, his hand. His whole world, whole universe, really, has been distilled down to this. This place. This man. This otherworldly connection.

And then he hears the siren. Sees the lights. He must notice only milliseconds before Alex, because he freezes first, feels Alex tense under him.

“Fuck,” Alex says, absolute dread in his voice. He pushes at Michael with his hands, and Michael releases him, assessing the situation quickly. There’s no question about what they’ve been doing. No other explanation given the look of them, the smell of sex and arousal heavy in the air.

“God dammit,” Alex is muttering. “God fucking _dammit_!” he says, bringing his open palm down on the dashboard, too hard. “I knew, knew we shouldn’t have done this out in the open. I fucking _knew_ it.”

“Hey,” Michael says. “Hey. I’ll handle it. Just... just find a shirt. Put it on.”

“They’ll kick me out,” Alex says. “I’m caught, and I’m kicked out.”

Michael’s quiet. _Would that be so bad_ , he wants to ask. Doesn’t.

“I’ll handle it,” he repeats. “Maybe you can, like, hide? Get down?”

There’s a strange look on Alex’s face as he stares at Michael. Wordlessly slides to the floor in front of the passenger seat. 

Michael’s eyes flick to his rear view mirror, and he sees a familiar silhouette exiting the cop cruiser. “Max,” he murmurs. “It’s Max,” he says, louder now, to Alex. “There’s no way he’ll report this so just, just stay down.”

There’s no response, and he’d give it more attention if he wasn’t seconds away from having to deal with Max. He sighs and sticks his head out the window to get confirmation. 

“License and registration,” comes Max’s voice. 

“Fuck off,” Michael mutters. He sticks his arm out the window, extends his middle finger. 

“Michael,” warns Max.

With a sigh, Michael opens the door, gets out. “What?”

Max shines his flashlight on him. “You’re supposed to stay in your vehicle.”

“What’re you going to do, arrest me?”

“I could,” Max retorts. “Who’s in there with you?”

“None of your business,” Michael says, too quickly, pressing his bare back against the open window of the truck to shield Alex from view.

Max frowns. “What if someone else had been on patrol, Michael?” He shakes his head. “You’ve gotta stop this shit.”

He rolls his eyes. “Oh, fuck you, Max. Can I go?”

“No!” Max exclaims, towering over him in his Deputy get-up. “I’m serious, Michael, you’ve been a mess for like half a year now. Ever since right after Christmas. Drunk and disorderlies, bar fights, a different girl every week... I’m tired of cleaning up your messes.”

Michael knows the windows of his truck are open. Knows Alex is hearing this. Every last word. He hangs his head. “I... I’ve just been dealing with some stuff, okay?”

Max scoffs. “This is you _dealing_ with stuff?” Max steps closer, lowers his voice. “You even know this one’s name?”

“Sorry if I’m not saving myself for marriage like you, Officer.”

Max looks skyward. “Look, I’m not gonna write you up. But please, Michael,” he says, glancing at the truck and dropping his voice, “please get it together. I... I can’t be worried about you, too. Iz is enough, you know?”

Michael stares at him.

“I _know_ you know,” Max says, and he sounds so weary. “And I think I know what this is all about, too,” he adds, gesturing to Michael.

Michael narrows his eyes. “Oh? Tell me, then, Max. What do you think this is all about, besides me just being the fuck-up?”

He expects the disappointment in Max’s eyes, but he’s not ready for the sadness. Max looks close to saying something - something different, something _real_ , but Michael sees the instant that tactic’s abandoned in favor of something safer. More familiar. “Just take her home, Michael,” Max finally says. “You don’t need an indecent exposure charge,” he says, glancing at Michael’s bare chest. 

Michael shrugs. “Guess I’m not winning misdemeanor bingo tonight, then.”

Max casts him a sidelong glance. “Seriously, Michael, you need to take better care of yourself.”

There’s a cracking sound. Max whirls around to look at his cruiser. 

“Shit,” Michael says. “Think you’ve got a headlight out.”

“Michael...”

“Wouldn’t want you getting a citation.”

Max looks like he’s about to say something more, but instead just shakes his head. “Good night, Michael.”

“Night, Max.”

Michael keeps leaning against his truck until Max’s cruiser is finally out of sight. With a sigh, he opens the door and flops down onto the driver’s seat. Alex is still crouched down, face turned toward the door. “Hey,” Michael says softly. “It’s okay now. Coast’s clear.”

Michael can see Alex suck in a breath. When he finally lifts his face, his eyes are frighteningly blank. Wordlessly, he lifts himself up and into the passenger seat. 

“That was a close call,” Michael says, trying to break the tension, attempting desperately to recover the night’s earlier mood.

“Too close,” Alex says flatly. “I, I think you should take me home.”

Michael freezes. “Take you home? Now?”

“Yes,” Alex says simply.

And Michael... fuck, Michael tries not to cry. Tries not to just break down, right here, at that. Then tries to bypass the hurt and go straight into anger. “You serious?” he asks, fumbling for the keys, jamming them into the ignition. 

“Yes, I’m serious. Did you miss the part where we nearly got caught?”

“But we didn’t.”

The car’s running now, but Michael hasn’t put it in drive. Alex is shaking his head, avoiding Michael’s eyes. “You don’t fucking get it,” he mutters.

Michael frowns. “What don’t I fucking get, Alex? Enlighten me.”

Alex whips around suddenly. Faces him. “You know the last time someone told me to get down?” Michael looks at him blankly. “It was three months ago. Fallujah.” He shakes his head. “Middle of an active fucking combat zone. And yet I was more scared tonight.” He looks away. “I can’t do this, Michael. I can’t. Can’t risk this,” he says softly.

Michael’s silent, just watching him. And he knows, knows he should just take Alex wherever he wants go, cut his losses, but this can’t be it, there must be more to it that Michael doesn’t know... “There someone else?” he asks, and as soon as he says it, he wishes he hadn’t.

“What?” Alex says, affronted.

Michael shrugs. “Thought I’d ask. Figure the military’s big. You can’t be the only one in this whole shitty-ass DADT boat.”

Alex is quiet.

“You really haven’t gotten any nice hard military dick these last few months?”

“Stop it, Michael.”

“I mean, I know you heard Max. I’ve been with other people.” He pauses. “No... no guys though. You’re my only guy, Alex.”

Alex has gone very still and is looking at him, so intently. 

Michael swallows, uncomfortable under the scrutiny. “You didn’t answer my question,” he says, finally.

“And I won’t,” Alex says, too quickly. And Michael knows.

“Shit.”

“It’s not like that. Over there,” Alex says, maybe aiming for reassuring but falling far short. “Nothing’s like this,” he murmurs, half to himself. “Over there,” he says again, “we were both just stand-ins. Stand-ins for the people we really wanted. That we couldn’t have.”

“Great,” Michael mutters, so bitter. “So what do you want now, Alex? Want me to drive you home? Walk you to your door, have a chat with your old man?”

Alex looks at him sharply. “Don’t want you anywhere near him.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have left,” Michael blurts, stunning them both into silence.

“I’ll take you home,” Michael whispers, just as Alex says, “I’m sorry.”

Michael lets his head drop, waits for Alex’s next move.

“If things were different,” Alex starts - 

“ - but they’re not,” Michael finishes. 

More silence.

“Where’s your Airstream?”

Michael purses his lips. “Foster Ranch.”

Alex’s jaw tightens. “Anyone around? Nearby?”

Michael knows what he’s asking. Could anybody see? Find out? And on an intellectual level he knows why he’s asking, knows why he’s concerned. He could be found out, kicked out. But fuck, why even join in the first place, if that’s how it is, if that’s what they think of you and people like you, god _damn_ it?

“No,” Michael finally responds, knowing he’s giving Alex what he wants.

Alex gives a tight little nod. “That offer still stand, Guerin? To show me your new place?”

_ To show me your trailer and let me fuck you stupid and give you hope and then take it away? To leave  _ _ you? Again? _

“Yeah, Alex,” Michael sighs. “Yeah. Of course.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Come say hi on tumblr (aewriting).


End file.
